In the Clockface, Weighted and Weary
by nuhuh
Summary: Post DH. When Dumbledore gives Harry a choice between life & death in King's Cross station, he chooses a third option. Now Harry faces stopping two wars before they even happen, because he can't accept what is in store for the world. HarryAriana.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **

This story begins towards the end of Deathly Hallows, in chapter 35/36.

This is where Harry has the conversation with Dumbledore in the King's Cross dreamscape after Voldemort pseudo-kills him.

Below is a quote from the book written by J.K. Rowling, this is her work, her world. None of it is mine, all credit is hers. My chapter begins where the quote ends. Enjoy.

**Quoted from Ch 36 of DH:**

"_Oh yes," Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to . . . let's say . . . board a train." _

"_And where would it take me?" _

"_On," said Dumbledore simply. _

_Silence again. _

"_Voldemort's got the Elder Wand." _

"_True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand." _

"_But you want me to go back?"_

**The Ends**

"You see, Harry, you have done your part and more… Yes, much more than can be or should be expected." Then he paused, as if gathering himself to say something that he'd rather not. "But you are the only one I can trust." He raised his hand to forestall Harry's interruption, and Harry shut his mouth. "No, it is not only the fact that in this state you are the only one I can reach, but it is your heart I trust the most. For this is a responsibility I would not even have trusted myself with; as you can appreciate from the knowledge of my life, Harry, I have been tempted, and fallen to it all too many times."

"But you changed," Harry protested quietly, not quite meeting the dead wizard's eyes.

"Perhaps, and yes, I did my best to remove myself from places and things that would lead me down a path liable to raise my lesser qualities. Tell me, Harry, what did your friends, what did people say when they found out the truth about my… shared beliefs with Grindelwald? How did they explain it?" There was a slight bitterness to the question, and for some reason Harry met his eyes to answer .

"They said you were young." He shrugged. "You didn't know any better," he finished hollowly.

"…and how did dear Remus and Sirius explain your father's treatment of Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked. Harry looked at him suspiciously before answering.

"They said he grew out of it, that his head 'deflated.'" He could hear the sarcasm in his own voice.

"You did not like either of those explanations, did you? Or excuses, as I believe you may think them," Dumbledore shrewdly questioned. Harry could not hold his stare and looked away sharply, before making contact again.

"I don't really… well, the thing is, I was younger than him… or you… and I didn't, I mean, I'm not saying I'm better or anything but… I never bullied anybody… Not the way he did! And, and I would never have believed Muggles to be—" Harry trailed off, trying to hide disappointment he had felt in Dumbledore and his father.

"Exactly, Harry. That is just the thing. You have always had the maturity and the heart to know better, to have been a better person than I was. In my place, you would never have been enamored by Grindelwald's grand schemes of suppressing Muggles." Then he quieted and spoke much more gently, "And in your father's place you would have been fairer to Severus, though I doubt you would have been friends."

Harry did not know what to say, the compliment was too much. He felt guilty for saying things he hid in his heart, and it was little comfort that Dumbledore agreed with him. He wondered about Dumbledore's proof of why he trusted him, while looking around, drawn to the pathetic figure rolling on one end.

"I wish to talk to you about James, something I should have done a long time ago, but first, do you understand why it is that I trust you over anyone else?"

Harry gave a jerky nod, hoping to move away from the emotional topic of Dumbledore's trust in him. "What do you want me to do, sir?" he asked, not really wanting to talk about his father either.

"We will come to that soon, but your disappointment in James has gone long enough."

"I'm not disappointed, I-" Harry trailed off.

"But you are ashamed of him, some part of you is ashamed of us both," he said with sad but piercing eyes. Harry felt blood rush to his face and started denying it vehemently, feeling anger only second to what he had when Sirius had died. Dumbledore again raised his hand to stop Harry's outburst, and settled even further back into his chair.

"I do not have any defense my boy, I was wrong, wrong in so many things in life that it seems I have spent the most of it in an attempt to redeem myself. But I wish you to know of your father, someone very dear to me and special as you are."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and found something to look at other than the old wizard's face. After all this time he wondered what else he could find out that he didn't already know.

"No man is one thing, Harry," Dumbledore began with a sense of great import. "Your father is both the man who stood against Lord Voldemort three times and one final time in defense of his family-"

"Without a wand. They didn't even have wands on them," Harry bitterly interrupted.

"And does that make him any less courageous, Harry? Is he less noble that he had faith in the loyalty of his friends?" Dumbledore demanded with a hint of anger. Harry felt his blood run cold at the rebuke.

"No…" Harry whispered.

"Indeed. As I was saying he is both that man and the one you saw in the Pensieve thoughts of Professor Snape. But perhaps you think that it is unforgivable that he was not as considerate as you at your age; then let me ask you this: what do you think of the boy who at the age of eleven accepted and defended the scion of one of the darkest families in England, the boy who forced his peers to look beyond Sirius's surname?" Dumbledore paused for it to sink in. Harry tried to say something but couldn't think of how to convince Dumbledore to stop.

"What do you think of the boy who took it upon himself to become an Animagus from the age of eleven just to comfort a reclusive werewolf, what most claim is a dark and vicious animal?"

"Remus isn't dark… wasn't… wasn't an animal," Harry sighed.

"True, but it was James who gave Remus the confidence to share his kind nature with us. It was James and Sirius who gave acceptance to someone that everyone had taught them was worthy only of being culled. It was also James who gave his protection to little Pettigrew when he was bullied by the upperclassmen."

"What about Snape?" Harry asked with a challenge, expecting Dumbledore to criticize James on that subject. After recently seeing Snape's memories he was no longer sure what to think. But he didn't have the time or inclination to think on him too much.

"Severus chose the wrong path at a young age, despite his affection for Lily. It was not until she was in danger that he came back to the light."

Harry shrugged in the moment Dumbledore was quiet.

"Know this that Severus was not James Potter's victim. He was quite capable in defending himself and attacking your father. They were frequently and near equally in detention for cursing each other. Your father's advantage over Severus was Sirius's willingness to team up against him. Severus sadly saw things differently; it is always difficult for those who are not accepted to think well of those who are, and your father was very popular."

"I always thought that Dad bullied him… Why didn't anyone tell me?" Harry demanded.

"I recall that Remus and Sirius did, but you did not believe them; not truly, because they were your father's friends."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Harry grew angry. Dumbledore's face slackened in a look of pain.

"I am afraid I left that doubt in you so you would give Severus a chance, and I am sorry for that. I can only hope you forgive me, now that you know the full truth about Severus's work for the light."

Harry sat stunned, unable to believe Dumbledore's reason. He suddenly stood and began pacing in the hazy white version of King's Cross. Shaking his head he tried to figure out how to feel about this.

"You know, Professor, I can understand that you changed. I wish it wasn't because of your sister dying, and I can never blame you. There's nothing worse that could happen than that. But after this… I don't know how to feel about you. Just tell me what you want, sir, I'm not sure I want to spend more time here with you," Harry said without turning back.

"I am sorry," Dumbledore whispered. Harry's back tensed but he did not say anything. "I needed someone who would vouch for Severus besides me when time came. It is too bad he died before he could be vindicated."

"Snape only cared for my Mum, Professor. That's all. You used that against him. I saw his memories, he didn't give a damn for what is right, he only wanted Mum alive. It isn't enough reason for you to let me think what I did about Dad, it's my fault I did but still… I won't be so arrogant to claim all the blame."

"My own words, Harry? Perhaps you did learn something from Severus, how to cut to the deep," Dumbledore said bitterly. Harry shrugged.

"Why am I here, Professor? What do you want to trust me with?"

"As always, the future of our world," Dumbledore answered.

"I'm dead, Sir. I let Voldemort kill me like you wanted me to."

"What if I were to tell you the choice is yours? You can still live Harry, you can still affect the future, and there is great need for it." The hazy whiteness of the walls and the floor suddenly became like television screens, great green pools, spreading out like water until becoming perfect ovals. And then the green pools cleared away to show Harry saw scenes of destruction.

Outside the Leaky Cauldron, on the Muggle side of the world, he saw SAS members opening fire on witches and wizards leaving the pub. Only a couple brought up shields in time to deflect the bullets, but many ordinary wizards were gunned down. He saw a wizard boy held point-blank, and heard the soldier shouting distantly.

"Tell us the entrance, take us to Diagon Alley," the soldier yelled, waving a Hogwarts letter in the boy's eyes. The boy shook his head, face white as a sheet. "Lead us inside or we will shoot you." The young boy, maybe a third year Hufflepuff Harry recognized, shook his head again. "I will count to three," the soldier yelled and counted down. Harry saw the third year's head snap back, his forehead blown apart. He didn't realize until seconds later that he was screaming. With a ringing in his ears he saw the soldier grab another child; a witch hexed him and three other gunmen shot her down. The vision faded away to whiteness again.

Another scene played out. Harry saw an older, thinner Hermione and some other unfamiliar people in Muggle military garb in Hogwarts hallways. He saw Hermione silently crying, and directing the soldiers to different areas of the castle; they all seemed to be obeying her. He saw them install what looked like bombs, or at least he figured the timers on the devices meant they were bombs.

"Hermione Granger betrayed the magical world in favor of the Muggle world. At first they found her parents, and forced her to reveal our secrets, but in the end she willingly began working with them to destroy our power," Dumbledore said.

The scene vanished and another showed up where Voldemort was flying in the air. Two missiles came streaking from far. Underneath him, the quaint outline of the wizarding village Hogsmeade spread out. Harry watched the missiles get closer to the village at unbelievable speeds, and waited in horror for them to blow up the much loved village. But to his surprise Lord Voldemort raised his wand against the inbound missiles, and they were banished from the air away to someplace familiar. In a moment Harry recognized it to be 10 Downing Street before all he could see was plumes of fire and concrete bursting outwards.

"What you see is a possible future if you don't go back; or if you go back but die against Lord Voldemort a second time. Now I will show you what happens if you win against him." Dumbledore spoke clearly over the shock Harry was feeling. "Sadly it is much the same, only the magical world will look to you to defend them against Muggles, rather than to Voldemort."

"But we're wizards, how did the Muggles find us?" Harry protested.

"Yes, we are wizards, but as a people we are comfortable in our lives, and do not have a drive to improve as we once did. Many adults of our kind have trouble casting a simple shield spell. When Muggles descend upon us with their incredible firearms and destructive weapons, there will be few of us with the skill to protect themselves. As far as how they found us, it is sadly Lord Grindelwald's work, and Voldemort's after him: they have exposed us. Watch now, Harry, to see how you would fare against them if you went back."

The familiar outside of St. Mungo's hospital appeared. Harry saw himself flanked by members of Dumbledore's Army in their school robes. Only they were taller, older and he himself looked unshaved. Under the fear of what he was possibly going to see, he curiously noted that he had facial hair. Scowling at himself for stupid thoughts, he watched what was happening more intently.

Shoulder mounted rockets pounded into the front of the building, but wherever they hit silver transparent shields popped up to take the damage. Heavy gunfire was impotent against the DA's shields, some absorbing the bullets other reflecting back onto the shooters. Harry himself was sending bombardment hexes at cars and other large things the Muggle forces were hiding behind. The hexes blew the cars apart, sending pieces flying hundreds of yards.

As he watched, roaring sounds of Cobra gunships announced their presence, and rockets aimed at his team came hissing at him. Patil twins switched their shields to cover over themselves, and Harry added his own magic to stop their powerful destructive capacity. Seamus Finnegan sent an Impedimenta charm at the rotors which slowed but didn't stop, others followed him and cast the same charm, causing the gun ship to crash. Cho Chang was less indirect, and began banishing the remains of cars and trucks Harry was blowing up into the aircraft.

The DA led by Harry was thoroughly crushing the Muggle forces, this was unlike the scene he had seen outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He turned and pointed proudly to his friends, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, Harry, what you see is well trained wizards who have not fallen to complacency. Many will awaken and relearn magic that they have forgotten from their school days, but until then they will be easy prey for Muggle soldiers, who are very much trained for the mentality of warfare. You saw already the weapons that Voldemort thwarted, sadly that is no child's game. He and few others can protect themselves against the full might of Muggle weapons of truly grand scale. Look what happens…"

Harry looked at the white walls washed with images of the possible future. It was still the scene in front of St. Mungo's. He was impressed with the variety and scale of the shields being cast by his possible future self, there were not many he recognized. There was an apparent lull in the fight, the Muggle soldiers retreated and the DA huddled together pulling their own wounded behind them and healing.

A lone figure walked down the road towards them in the middle of all the wreckage. Through the dust and smoke from fires he could not make out who it was until the figure was a dozen yards from the DA.

"Hermione?" Harry heard his future self say in astonishment, before his expression hardened. Hermione Granger looked thin and pale, but there was determination in her. The DA flanked his future self, many of them looked murderous. She was wearing a gray coat, with her wand out against her leg.

"How long do you expect to hold out, Harry? They can keep wasting their ammunition on forever, even if it takes one of you down it is worth it to them," Hermione asked wearily.

"You are one of us, Hermione. What the hell are you doing? They don't have your parents anymore," Harry's future self yelled.

"The magical ministries all over the world are trying to take over the government, trying to make Muggles into… into house elves. It's Death Eater agenda, Harry, how could you support that? You betrayed what your parents died for, what Dumbledore died for!" Hermione yelled back.

"I'm stopping these bastards from killing us. Have you forgotten what they did to us? You forget the burnings? They fucking burned witches, they burned little children. They executed civilians. They drowned Trelawney. You call them house elves? They're exterminating us."

"And you're enslaving them, Harry, people like my parents, Obliviated and… and doing whatever pureblood fanatics want," she screeched. Seamus Finnegan whispered something furiously in future-Harry's ear. Suddenly they could see Muggle soldiers coming up in tight formation around Hermione, and they seemed to be hiding something behind them.

"I can't believe you would say that, Hermione. You're like my sister, do you really think I'm part of any of it?" Harry's future self appealed to her, and for the first time there was sadness on both their faces.

"No, Harry. But if you win, they win… And all the Muggles will just be servants to magical ministries. I can't have that. If you lay down your wand now and turn yourself in the DA goes free, and St.Mungo's is left alone."

"Never!" yelled many voices from the DA.

"She's stalling, Harry, they're hiding something," Seamus shouted, pointing at her.

"They're surrounding us, Harry, she's betrayed us," Cho Chang pulled at his arm.

"Hermione, please, I swear to you I will do everything to protect your family and you. Come back to us, you belong with us. Stop helping them execute innocent people and putting them in prison," Harry's future self appealed to her again.

Hermione hung her head for a moment, apparently affected by his words, then looked up with a blank face. "Sorry, I'm working on cooperation between wizards and Muggles, but the ministries don't want to listen. I won't be part of genocide-"

"You already are," Harry's future self interrupted her. He looked at her and then shook his head disappointedly. "DA, Portkeys!" he commanded and as one every member reached for some secreted item on them.

"She dies if you disappear!" Hermione shouted. An older George Weasley with a rough beard and unkempt hair put his hand on future Harry's shoulder, pointing behind Hermione. The Muggle soldiers dragged someone kicking and screaming forward. Hermione stepped aside, and between two burly soldiers he saw a young girl with flowing silvery blonde hair, that had an almost supernatural shine. She was swearing and crying in French. Harry looked at her in horror.

"You've gone mad, Granger," George said, stunned.

"What are you doing with Gabrielle," future Harry asked in forced calm. Behind him the DA was buzzing furiously and looking at Hermione in shock.

"The deal is simple, Harry, you turn yourself over to the authorities right now. Give up your wand and everyone here is free to go. You can't Apparate, I have put up wards, but if you Portkey she pays for it," Hermione explained.

"This can't be Hermione, Professor." Harry turned to Dumbledore for reassurance but got nothing. The old wizard just pointed Harry back to the walls to see what came next.

"Harry, I'm sorry! She found me, I thought she was your friend! Run away please, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Gabrielle shouted at future Harry from behind Hermione.

"Take me instead," George offered, stepping forward, but Hermione raised her hand to stop him.

"No one but Harry, the authorities won't settle for anything else," she said.

"We can fight you," George growled. The two soldiers holding Gabrielle's arms immediately pointed their weapons on her.

"She will be dead before you can think, wizard, this close even magic can't help her," the soldier sneered. George jerked forward but future Harry held him back.

"You will get a trial, Harry, I made sure of it," Hermione offered, but all she got was hateful glares. The DA tried to talk to Harry, but he only stared at his former best friend.

"You don't know what you're doing, Hermione. Let her go and I will come, at the same time." There were loud protests from his friends and followers, but he shook them off, taking a few steps forward. Gabrielle was released and she shuffled towards Harry, in tears and bearing signs of being roughed up. Her pretty young face was screwed up in fear and anger. When she reached Harry she threw herself on him; he hugged her, placing one hand on the back of her shiny hair, as she murmured apologies in French.

"Harry," Hermione called, breaking up their moment, her wand held tensely. Future Harry bent and placed a kiss on Gabrielle's forehead, pulling her arms from around his neck. He pushed her back towards the DA and George.

Harry watched his future self walk to Hermione and give up his wand. He saw his hand and Hermione's clasp painfully for a second where she took the wand from him. The soldiers surged around the pair and suddenly the DA couldn't see anything. Harry's future self was forced to the ground and Gabrielle started screaming.

"They'll kill him, they'll kill him," she wailed.

He saw the soldiers separating Hermione from his future self, he saw him struggle with them, but they kicked his legs out and he fell to his knees.

"He's not to be harmed, he's not to be harmed! I have the word of the Prime Minister!" Hermione yelled as she tried to reach him. The DA opened attack and took down the outside ring of soldiers, but they had been quick to send Harry to the back of the line. There were cameramen waiting, Harry's guards threw him on the ground and made a circle around him. They pointed their automatic weapons and opened fire. Harry saw the side of his skull crack open and then it was bloody carnage on his body. They riddled him with bullets.

Hermione was held back by other soldiers. The DA reached them in minutes, but too late to save Harry.

"Your leader is dead," a ranked Muggle spat in the face of Creevey and promptly received a Cruciatus for his insult.

When the white walls once again blanked, Harry realized he was on his hands and knees, cold and afraid. He had no idea how long he was like that, but eventually Dumbledore's voice reached him.

"Harry, my boy, get a hold of yourself. Harry, wake up."

He recoiled, feeling like someone had slapped him. He turned to Dumbledore, expecting that the old wizard was the one who had smacked him out of his shock, but the dead wizard was still sitting in his place.

"I don't understand." Harry looked to Dumbledore helplessly.

"There is of course one more possible fut-"

"No, no more. I've had enough," Harry interrupted, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. The featureless whiteness all around him was a blessing now, in which he could pretend to forget what he'd seen.

"This one is not nearly as shocking as the other two. This is a possibility if all goes well. Go ahead and watch. I don't wish you to be hopeless." Dumbledore pointed to the floor, which Harry was glaring at. It became a window, like the walls had, through which he saw events played out.

It was Platform 9 ¾ ; there were parents and children buzzing about in the usual rush of catching the Hogwart's express. He caught site of an older version of Percy Weasley arguing with someone, and near him was a huddle of people who were instantly recognizable. Hermione, much older than he had seen her previously, but also in much better health, was standing with Ron Weasley. Next to them he saw Ginny, now in full womanhood, and felt his breath taken away; with a twinge of jealousy he saw an arm on her waist but then realized it was his own future self's. A smile touched his face finally, for the first time since he had woken up in the dream King's Cross.

Around the group he saw a bunch of kids, who looked vaguely familiar. His own hand was on a boy's shoulder, and Ron was talking to a school age girl who had Hermione's hair. Harry looked to Dumbledore in askance.

"Yes, Harry, those are your and the Weasley children. A possible and happy future, if you go back." Dumbledore smiled at him, and Harry returned it, feeling a huge weight lift off of him.

"So it could be alright? I mean things will work out if I go back. It's possible isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Yes, everything is possible."

"Okay, good. How do I make that happen?" Harry pointed to the floor where the scene at the Hogwart's express continued. Dumbledore gave him a long look.

"I do not know. I only know some of the possible futures. I have no knowledge of how you defeated Voldemort in that particular future and kept the Muggles at bay."

"What? How am I supposed to stop all the other things if you don't know?" Harry demanded, agitated.

"I don't know. I simply don't. I have no idea of the choices you will make, or what actions will lead to one future or the other. Remember, Harry, it's not just your choices that will shape the future. In all of those you are not the only one who mattered. Some combination of the choices of the many forces in the world led to each of those futures. Yet, it is true that you will be a major force by yourself."

Harry sat down, defeated, staring up at the far blank ceiling. The endless whiteness of it soothed his mind, the silence of the dreamscape helping him let go of his thoughts, full of anger and helplessness. He avoided the thought that he simply did not know what to do.

"Now that you have seen what the future could possibly be, I come to what I wish to ask you for," Dumbledore began, breaking the silence.

"You want me to go back, and just hope everything works out, right? Like with the Horcruxes, just running all over the country." Harry's voice was flat, but the criticism in it was loud.

"There are many things that I wish I could have done differently. But putting my faith in you is something I have never questioned. You cannot make me feel sorry for that, my boy." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "No, that is not what I had in mind. Unfortunately, I have something much more difficult to ask of you."

Harry looked at his deceased Headmaster, wary of his grave tone. "What?"

"There is a way to ensure that the danger of Muggles finding out about us is taken care of sooner than later. A small chance you could stop the killings before they even begin."

Harry took a moment to absorb what he'd heard. The thought he could stop the terrible things he'd seen from happening lit a fire inside where he had felt helpless, while watching the possible futures. He was still wary of hoping to much, and knowing that nothing had ever been easy for him. However, it did not take much thought for him to know he wanted nothing but to make sure the better future was the only future there would be.

Wisely, Dumbledore had given his favorite pupil time to consider the idea and waited for him to ask that most important question: "How, sir?" Harry asked, excitedly.

"Given your unique position, you are hovering between life and death, where many of the universe's workings are laid open. You can travel back in time, perhaps far enough to counter Voldemort's attacks against Muggles, at least to warn us ahead of time to prepare." Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, earnest in his idea.

"Do you think it would work? I mean there's still Voldemort," Harry asked, trying to keep his own excitement in check.

"Oh! I dearly hope so, my boy. It is a risk, but that one voice warning the magical world of what is at its doorstep might make all the difference. I hope that it is what will make the best future you saw possible." Then Dumbledore sobered, giving Harry a hard look. "The power to defeat Lord Voldemort is in you. You will find a way, I am certain of it, but something to consider is this: you are the true master of the Elder wand, not Voldemort. Draco Malfoy won it from me, and you won a duel against him. By rights the deathstick will obey you. That is one weapon that you have denied Tom Riddle."

For a moment he felt elated finding out he was the true owner of the elder wand, and saw that as a shining hope for victory. But having learned caution from experience in the last year, he shared his concern, "I don't think that is enough, Professor. He's still more powerful than me, I don't even understand the kind of magic he can do." Dumbledore did not say anything to deny this, and Harry was not waiting for him either, he was busy resolving himself, despite his misgiving. "But I'll go back. I'll do whatever I can. I'll tell whoever about the Muggles, but I don't know if I can stop Voldemort."

"You already have," Dumbledore disagreed, and smiled serenely at Harry's confused look. "You died for your friends, and those you wished to protect, much like your mother died for you. That is powerful and old magic. I am certain that you have left an incredible protection on all that are fighting for the light today. Don't despair so soon."

"You're serious? I thought I had to go so that the part of Voldemort's soul died."

"True, but your sacrifice is noble, and powerfully magical. Trust in yourself." Dumbledore spoke with feeling, making Harry uncomfortable with his sentiment.

He sat thinking of what he'd seen happen between him and Hermione. But nothing moved him like seeing the young Hufflepuff who wouldn't tell where the entrance to Diagon Alley was. Strangely he felt that child was braver than him; here he was, wondering if he should go back in time, and the kid hadn't even hesitated. He had stayed true to wizards.

"I want that last future, sir, and I want to save that boy." He turned his determined eyes to Dumbledore, and saw fierce pride reflected in the old wizard's face.

"I had a feeling you would. Once again, we embark on an uncharted area into magic. Good luck, my boy." Dumbledore's voice became faint and white mist began gathering again.

It occurred to Harry that he had no idea of how far back in time he would be traveling. Feeling a slight panic, he frantically yelled, "Wait, how far are you sending me?"

"I have no way of knowing. Farewell!" Dumbledore's faint voice echoed in his ears as he lost consciousness.

* * *

A.N. Much thanks to Tinn beta'ing and the many content reviewers. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Recap:_

_He sat thinking of what he'd seen happen between him and Hermione. But nothing moved him like seeing the young Hufflepuff who wouldn't tell where the entrance to Diagon Alley was. Strangely he felt that child was braver than him; here he was, wondering if he should go back in time, and the kid hadn't even hesitated. He had stayed true to wizards._

"_I want that last future, sir, and I want to save that boy." He turned his determined eyes to Dumbledore, and saw fierce pride reflected in the old wizard's face._

"_I had a feeling you would. Once again, we embark on an uncharted area into magic. Good luck, my boy." Dumbledore's voice became faint and white mist began gathering again._

_It occurred to Harry that he had no idea of how far back in time he would be traveling. Feeling a slight panic, he frantically yelled, "Wait, how far are you sending me?"_

"_I have no way of knowing. Farewell!" Dumbledore's faint voice echoed in his ears as he lost consciousness._

_Recap end_

**Chapter 2**

Through the universe's laid bare workings Dumbledore sent Harry's unconscious form through time. But as the faint light of his spirit vanished from his sight he saw the cold beautiful face of an immutable entity look at him with disappointment, and he knew Harry's journey into the past was in danger. Afraid for him he sped after Harry and the entity pursuing him; for Death was a lady most persistent.

Harry regained consciousness and immediately was assaulted by the worst torment he had ever felt: an alien presence coiled around him. All around him rose walls of the Ministry of Magic, golden statues that used to mark the main hall lay scattered around him. Lord Voldemort whispered cruelties in his mind; it was just like he had been possessed back in his fifth year.

Then just as suddenly Harry lost consciousness again, jerked even further back in time to another moment that he had brushed against death.

This time when he awoke he was on Hogwarts ground, surrounded by a hundred Dementors, and Sirius was laying lifelessly at his feet. The cold and despair flooded through him and he choked on it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the approach of a resplendent Patronus, and passed out.

Again he was jerked backwards in time. Dumbledore had caught him out of Death's attempts to reclaim him and thrown him back in time once again.

Now, he awoke to something long and sharp piercing his arm. In front of his face the blinded Basilisk screeched in agony against the sword he had thrust into its mouth; Harry screamed along with the dark abomination, startled by the sudden appearance of his foe from when he was twelve. He fell back, and caught a glimpse of little Ginny Weasley lying pale and deathly at the base of Slytherin's statue. Basilisk poison stole his remaining vigor as he stumbled to her form, but lost consciousness.

Again, time hurtled back with Harry Potter.

Harry was on his back and over him the enraged form of Quirrel was trying to kill him. Quirrel found his hand around Harry's throat; Harry pitted his eleven year old strength against Voldemort's servant and found no purchase. Inside his mind he screamed at the fourth instance of reliving a near-death experience. Quirrel screamed letting go of Harry's neck. Remembering what he had done in the past, Harry leapt forward holding on to Quirrel. Knowing what was to come he dispassionately watched as the possessed teacher disintegrated to release Lord Voldemort's shadow.

Just as Voldemort's vaporous form was about to attack him, Dumbledore appeared as Harry had last seen him in the Dreamscape and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck pulling him away like he had a giant's strength.

"Quite enough of that, I think." Dumbledore's blue eyes were strained and fierce, and Harry felt as if he was being carried on a speeding jet.

"Sir, what's happening?" he croaked, unable to make out the blur that surrounded him and Dumbledore's form

"Death, dear Harry, Death. She does not like letting go of you easily; you have defied her too many times. I am sure you noticed a pattern of the choice moments she had you relive. She hoped you would not have the strength to carry yourself through a second time all those moments you almost entered her embrace. Lucky that I am here escorting you, my apologies for not getting you sooner, she is rather formidable."

Harry felt nauseous and dizzy, hardly understanding what Dumbledore was telling him.

"I don't-I think I'll be sick." Harry groaned.

"Quite impossible in your state, don't worry. Hmm, I wish I had caught you before she took you all the way back to first year. My apologies in advance for having to suffer through puberty a second time. Now, Harry, prepare yourself, I don't have much strength left and she is right behind us. Farewell, once again."

"But!" Harry only managed to yell before Dumbledore threw him forward into the mess of lights and gases, hurling him like doll. It was unbelievably disorienting to be manhandled by Dumbledore who apparently possessed Grawp's strength.

Oblivion.

* * *

He came to, feeling a drizzle on his face, somewhere between that allusive spot of not too heavy and not too light rain, just enough to be annoying. Eyesight blurred, he blinked slowly, hoping to bring into focus where he was. Weariness stole over him and with it the desire to find out where he was disappeared, and he straddled sleep and wakefulness for many hours.

Next he woke, the drizzle had ended and he felt weak sunshine on one side of his face. Aches in his body informed him he was lying on his side somewhere outside. When things cleared he saw he was lying on a paved road, resembling a cresting whale, swollen in the middle and tapering off to the sides. Smell of wet earth confirmed he was lying on his face; still he was reluctant to get up, thinking it wouldn't be so bad to go to sleep again.

Experimentally he propped one tired hand and rolled over, facing the sky where the sun had taken some of it's ground back from gray clouds. Raising another hand he wiped grime and particles of pavement from the side of his face. A strange sensation prompted him to look at his hand, bringing it in front of his eyes, he felt himself freeze at the sight of the dirty hand.

Unblinkingly he watched his hand, moved it this way and that, establishing that it indeed was his hand. Using the same hand he slapped himself and checked it again – the hand still looked wrong, too small.

"_My apologies in advance for having to suffer through puberty a second time."_ Dumbeldore's words came back to him. Using the same hand, he slapped his head. _It can't be_, he thought and groaned, turning over his stomach. He regarded his surroundings for a moment; suddenly he felt very exposed lying in the open and got up quickly.

At once he moved to the side of the lane, where he discovered himself to be, it ran between rows of high fences leading to the backyards of houses on both sides. It was generally unkempt, vegetation allowed to grow as it pleased in the common area; it was clean other than that. It was quiet and looked only moderately in use. Harry felt relieved; it wasn't so long ago he was hiding and running. It was extremely stupid just sleeping where anyone could stumble over him. Now that the safety of his immediate surrounding was assured, Harry took to the jarring problem he had noticed right away: he was several feet short and generally too small. Furthermore, his clothes hung off of him, made for someone much older than him.

It was enough to make him anxious but remembering his mission he suppressed the unpleasant sensation of being an eleven year old. Walking close to one side, almost hugging the fences, he decided to leave and find exactly where and how far in the past he had ended up. It was important to know where he could expect Deatheaters and Lord Voldemort to be. Not to mention where he himself and his friends may be.

"I hope I don't kill myself when I see me," he spoke to himself and stopped for a second to roll up his pants, while thinking how strange the thought was. After rolling up his sleeves and pants six times he set out again, still keeping secretly to one edge of the lane, in case some dark wizard decided to leap into the lane.

He crept, slowly increasing pace as he gained confidence in his environment. He began to notice discomfort from his overlarge wet clothes, and the road rash on the side of his face. Soon he was walking down the long lane overhung by drooping trees less vigilantly as before, thinking about going to see his self in this time. Only now some of the ramifications of his decision occurred to him, for a first that he could not go back to his time at a twirl of a time turner after his work was done. Would his friends be willing to accept two Harrys?

_What about Ginny?_ He wondered, now losing all sense of his surroundings.

_Well maybe both of us could go out with her_. The thought brought him to a halt, and he looked out blindly with a slightly queasy expression on his face when he thought of the mechanics of such a relationship.

Silently chastising himself he walked on, thinking that he should be more concerned about his mission, but with that the depressing thoughts of what Dumbledore had shown him came. It was more amusing to imagine meeting his past self, and perhaps warn him of things that had happened in the past year. With his face set in a grim line he rounded a corner and noticed a bunch of boys crowding around a hole in a fence.

They looked like they were in their mid to late teens, and much too tall; Harry was forcibly reminded of his reduced stature. He held back, wondering if he should turn around or sneak past them. It all felt too familiar, hiding from bullies and skulking past them, angrily Harry surged forward, he wasn't a child anymore. From the deep pockets he drew the wand he'd won from Draco Malfoy, and kept the youths in sight.

As he neared, two of the four disappeared through the hole talking loudly. The two still in the lane had their heads up to the neck through the hole and seemed to egging on their friends. Harry looked straight ahead, watching them from the corner of his eye, they were so like the bigger boys he used to avoid in his neighborhood. He could tell from the way they moved they were up to some mischief.

"Go on then, show us 'ow it's done," one voice crowed.

"Make it fly. We saw you," another voice accused. The boys standing in the lane slipped through the crack and Harry was left alone feeling a sense of alarm.

"I didn't make it fly. Get out. My Daddy will beat you!" a very small girl's voice piped up, sounding scared and defiant. Where Harry had been thinking of slipping away quietly, now he froze; he couldn't possibly let a bunch of grown boys bully a little girl.

"I saw you make that ball fly, little witch. Show us again, or else," the first voice became a lot more threatening, other voices joined in.

Harry held back hoping they would go away if they didn't find what they were looking for from her. His grip on the wand tensed, knowing if he did something it would have to be magic, he was too small to harm the teenagers physically. But doing magic in an area like the one he was in would bring down all kinds of attention he couldn't afford. So he waited hoping he didn't have to do anything.

Soon there was jeering and Harry began to hear the girl crying and shouting. He bit his lip knowing that Deatheaters in the Ministry could well track magic in a muggle area and if he did anything he might be getting the girl in a lot more trouble than just a bunch of bullies.

There was a shriek and sharp sounds of skin on skin – they were beating her. Harry threw caution to the wind and jumped through the crack in the fence, his overlarge cloak got caught on a rusted nail and he fell hard. The boys hadn't noticed him; they were busy yelling 'witch' and 'show us' and profanities. Harry struggled, finally popping the clasp of the cloak and running into the commotion of the boys, between whom a tiny blonde girl was being dragged and beaten. Harry's blood boiled at the sight.

He ran blindly into their middle a curse already on his tongue, but there wasn't a wand in his hand. They towered over him, momentarily forgetting the girl, then with a simplistic solution to the problem one of them pulled a punch back and struck him.

Hot pain flamed on his cheek as he fell on the ground and leapt up in the next. The girl was screaming "I can't do it," and crying. Harry tried to get her, but was caught up in a flurry of arms and legs kicking and beating him. In the confusion of the fight he reached the girl, the ring leader still had her by the scruff of her neck trying to force her to do magic. Harry bit his hand, even as the other boys were pulling at his legs dragging him back. Their leader let go of the girl, turning only enough to elbow Harry in the mouth, splitting his lips.

Dust rose up in the small backyard where Harry was putting up a fierce fight; his wand lay by the cloak near the fence, dropped when he'd fallen. With a vicious kick to the groin he was free of the boys beating him and ran to the little girl who was being slapped in a steady pattern. The boy would demand she do magic, then slap her, then make his demand again, then slap her, again and again.

Harry tackled the boy in the back of his knees, pushing him to the ground. In the same motion he rolled grabbing the girl and covering her with his body. She had started wailing some time ago, there were other shouts and curses. Punches and kicks rained down on him but he stayed shielding the girl.

"Get off her boy, or I will stick you!" Harry heard, over the girl's bawling. She was curled into him clutching his shirt. Next thing Harry knew was a sharp pain in his side, he screamed, his hand going to the wound instinctively to find a knife. The boy had stabbed him.

Just then the girl began shaking and convulsing in his arms, repeating "I don't know how, I don't know how."

"Don't worry, you're safe now," Harry ignored his pain to comfort her. Behind him there was an enraged shout, and a curse in Latin; someone had bursted out of the house. The girl went still and Harry looked down into her frightened blue eyes.

"It's scary," she said.

Then in the minuscule space between her face and Harry's a blue flicker of magic appeared, and in the next moment he felt like an elephant had kicked him in his stomach.

The blue flicker of magic entered him, for a moment making him feel like he had first touched a wand. Magic exploded out of the frightened girl into Harry, first alighting his own power and then mixing with it to explode out of both their bodies.

There was a deafening roar, last thing Harry saw was the girl's teary face screwed up in fright and then he was knocked unconscious; yet again.

* * *

Nightmares had him racked on the hospital bed. Sweat beaded on his forehead and neck; visions of the future, betrayal of friends, a child's wails, an unnamed Hufflepuff's bloody brains on the street, Gabrielle apologizing: _I'm sorry, I'm sorry_.

With a jerk he sat up in bed, breathing hard, too caught up in his mind to notice where he was. A hand grasped his arm, startling him; he looked to find a grave looking man beside his bed.

"Are you well?" he asked.

A pause.

"Have some water. You were having a nightmare." The man brought a glass of water to him, and Harry drank from it greedily.

"I must thank you for protecting my daughter. I saw what you did, but the worst had already happened by the time I was able to get out of the house. For that I am sorry." The man bowed his auburn head, letting the shoulder length hair spill forward.

Harry felt awkward with the man's formality, though was glad to know who he was. "It wasn't your fault. Is your daughter alright?"

The man raised his head, showing the beginning of age lines, he regarded Harry for an uncertain moment.

"Yes, thanks to you. She is well, and has not suffered many ill effects of her accident. Your condition has weighed heavily on us. The healers believed you would not survive my daughter's magic exploding into you."

"Her magic exploded?" Harry asked, a little dizzily

"Yes, the muggles' attack agitated her to the extreme. They were forcing her to do magic. My poor daughter, tried her best, but it came out in a destructive force. Your nearness somehow dampened the worst of it, and forced her magic to return to her calmed and peaceful. I am truly grateful, I promise you those muggles will pay with their life!" the man's quiet words were full of palpable anger. Harry became wary of his flinty blue eyes.

"No…I mean, if it's all the same, I'd rather you don't have murder on your hands." Harry said trying to gauge how the angry man would react. He received another uncertain look from him.

"You speak quite plainly, but wise words nonetheless. However, I am afraid I cannot let those torturers escape without consequences for their actions. They put their hands on my innocent six year old daughter, and stabbed you, a mere eleven year old boy!" he exclaimed.

Harry did not have much he could say to the man. He chose to look around to find himself in a private ward, with a window. It was day, a little sunlight played behind the curtains. He spied his things folded neatly on a chair, with Malfoy's wand and his wallet set on top.

"The healers will be here momentarily. They, as I, are anxious to speak to your family." The man looked to Harry askance.

"We are in St. Mungo's?" Harry asked, having recognized where he was.

"Yes, we are." The man answered.

Harry stopped before asking him if he recognized who he was. It was obvious that he didn't. It was unlikely that no one in St. Mungo's recognized the boy-who-lived, Harry thought pressing his hair low over his forehead.

"May I know where to owl your parents, child?" The man asked kindly, the previous anger at muggles having left him. The question startled Harry out of his thoughts.

"No, no. I don't have parents...they died, a long time ago," he explained dismissively, thinking about his next step, weighed down by his nightmares. And so he missed the man's muttered condolence.

"Am I to take it you are on your own then?"

"Yes. I need to leave," Harry said, swinging his feet off the bed, it was disconcerting to not be able to reach the floor. He looked at his child sized legs in mild discomfort.

"It is unwise for a child your age to be without supervision and care. What is your name?" The man extended his hand with a familiar looking smile. Harry took the hand, blanking for a moment, hesitating on his name.

"Well?"

"Harry, my name's Harry."

"What's your full name?" The man asked his hand firm.

Harry threw about in his head and blurted: "Gabrielle, err, I mean Gabriel." The image of her being held hostage fresh in his head.

"Yes, _Gabrielle_ is a very feminine name." The man smiled like he had caught Harry in a lie but wasn't going to call him on it. "A pleasure to meet you Harry Gabriel."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir." Harry added the honorific, hoping good manners would make him forget his slip of giving a girl's name as his surname.

"I am Percival Dumbledore, I will return with your healer." With that the man left, and Harry stared after him stunned.

He jumped off the bed, onto the cold stone floor and donned his clothes. All the while thinking if there was any other Dumbledore than Albus or Aberforth, he couldn't think of any. More anxious than before to find out what time he was in, Harry prepared to leave, planning on going to Hogwarts.

But just as he reached the door, Percival Dumbledore came back with a wizard in healer robes.

"Ah, you're awake," he began in a tight voice, looking at a scroll in his hand. "I have good news, you have not suffered the lasting effect of death."

Percival Dumbledore shot Harry an amused look, which Harry returned hesitantly, finding both him and the healer too tall.

"Other good news is that you should be able to use your magic. Quite a miracle given what you suffered," the healer's voice turned a little accusatory and he glanced at Percival Dumbledore's face before going back to the scroll.

"Ok, thanks." Harry shook his head not understanding the strange healer's words or behavior. _Why wouldn't I be able to use magic?_

"Good, good. Well, that leaves the matter of hospital fees. Please owl your parents to-" The healer was suddenly cut off by Percival Dumbledore's broad form standing between him and Harry. Harry overheard some quick and harsh whispering in which the healer hardly took part more than some squeaks.

"Rather. Well. Of course," the healer muttered after Percival Dumbledore was through with him. "Fees waived. Off you go with Mr. Dumbledore, I need this ward room free, and don't be concerned about the scars, they're superficial only. Miracle that too." And so the portly healer departed, leaving Harry wondering about which scars the healer was speaking of.

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes, I'll be going then." Harry passed Mr. Percival Dumbledore.

"And where will you be going?"

"Out," Harry replied shortly, deciding it was time to give up niceties.

"Indeed. Out and then to my home. My daughter is very anxious to see you awake. My wife would also like to thank you personally."

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I have things to do. Please let your wife I'm sorry I couldn't see her. Goodbye." Harry turned to leave.

"There is also the matter of the wand found after the muggles' attack on my daughter. The aurors wish to find the owner, as it was used to cast very dark curses." Percival Dumbledore said in a slow considered manner.

Despite himself Harry stopped in his steps to look up at him, worried he knew that the wand was his.

"I don't know anything about a wand," he said.

Percival Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. His stern face turned kindly.

"I understand that your life must be difficult, and you surely did things to survive that you would not have if you had a choice. I promise you the aurors will be much less understanding than I. If you run now it will look the worse for you." Percival Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder in a comforting way.

Harry kept his lips sealed in a thin line, thinking hard how to escape the situation he found himself in. Without a wand he was helpless, in his eleven year old body he wasn't that physically strong either. Somehow he had to get to the Order. There was also the question of who exactly Percival Dumbledore was, obviously a relative of Albus Dumbledore, but as far as he knew Albus and Aberforth were the last of their family.

"Come home with me. It should be a pleasant break from being on the streets, and the aurors will be kinder if you are under my protection," Percival Dumbledore continued.

Harry made a noise of irritation in his throat, but considered it would be easier to get away from someone's house than the aurors. He simply nodded in acceptance, and Percival Dumbledore led him out by the shoulder.

-----

Tripping and plodding in his overlarge pants Harry made his way through the modest front garden to the door of the Dumbledore household. Percival Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder had become a perpetual presence; it had begun to annoy Harry. But he was thankful how quickly the man had gotten him out of the hospital, it had been nerve-racking to wait for some bystander to recognize him and raise the alarm.

He was tired, so very tired, the hiding, the fruitless searches, months of not knowing what to do, the relief of facing Voldemort in the final battle, terror of walking to his own death, and now hindered on his mission by a well meaning man; it was too much, he sagged in his clothes.

"Come Harry Gabriel, we are at the end of the journey. Do not look so down hearted." Percival Dumbledore opened the door.

At once he smelled an unfamiliar flowery fragrance, and heard the whistle of a kettle coming to boil. Percival Dumbledore entered hanging his cloak and hat, gently nudging Harry through to a room to the right. A woman of medium height but exceptionally long braid of brunette hair stood at the stove, imperiously directing ladles pots and pans. She looked at him without surprise or warmth; her face would have been attractive if it hadn't been set in an expression of complete neutrality. Dark blue eyes danced in reflection of the stove fire, giving Harry the distinct impression that she was not a witch to be crossed.

"Kendra, this is the boy who saved Ariana, you remember?" Percival Dumbledore said.

A flash of recognition crossed the woman's face. "Of course, I did not recognize him for a moment." The ladles dropped noisily in the pans and she came forward to place a kiss on Harry's forehead. Raising his face to hers in her hands she smiled at him a truly grateful smile, and Harry was proved right in thinking she could be beautiful. Up close he saw worry lines and a few gray hairs. "Thank you for protecting my daughter that was a very brave thing to do."

"Did you say your daughter's name is Ariana?" Harry asked, a cold feeling creeping down his back. Suddenly there was the noise of several feet running down stairs, and three children showed up in the frame of the door.

"Ah, and here she is with here with her brothers. Children this is Harry Gabriel. Harry tallest from the left is Albus, then Aberforth, and you have met Ariana already." Percival Dumbledore gestured to a boy around Harry's age with light auburn hair, then one younger than him with a surly expression, and finally a shy little blonde girl, holding the middle boy's hand.

"Oh! God," Harry swore under his breath. "Albus, Aberforth, and Ariana." All color left his face, leaving him white as a sheet.

"Are you alright, boy?" Kendra Dumbledore asked, catching him as he lost balance and sat him down. She said something to Percival Dumbledore and there was a flurry of movement around him but Harry was lost.

A glass of water ended at his lips and he was subjected to a cheering charm before he came out of his shock. Sadly mixing the cheering charm with his shock left him somewhat giddy and in disbelief.

"Best if you rest. Perhaps I took you from St. Mungo's too soon. Cursed Healers, if it's not a Ministry official they pay no attention." Percival Dumbledore picked Harry bodily, making him instinctively protest at being handled like a child. Kendra walked ahead and before Harry knew it he was in a cot pressed under warm covers. "Sleep now, dinner is in a few hours. Come children lets not disturb Mr. Gabriel."

Harry was left alone in bed, staring at the ceiling wide eyed, trying very hard not to panic. "There must be another family with the same names, that's the explanation; I can't be a hundred and fifty years in the past. I mean that would mean I'd probably be dead by the time I'm supposed to be born. Then who's going to fight Voldemort? Of course, it's all just a coincidence. I'm going to sleep and then...yes." He drifted off into a half sleep, distantly aware of household sounds.

It wasn't too long when Harry felt someone near by and come out of his half sleep alert and reaching for his absent wand. The blond girl from before was standing at his bedside, staring at him with singular concentration. She had her hands crossed behind her back and simply looked at him; it was a little unnerving.

"Good evening, Mr. Gabriel," she hesitated on his assumed name, as if it was a difficult word. Her slight piping voice brought a smile to Harry's face.

"Good evening. You're Ariana?" Harry asked, a little taken aback her bright eyed face.

"I'm six years old." She held up seven fingers, and then corrected them by holding up only five with a look of consternation. Harry suppressed the impulse to laugh.

"Mummy said to say thank you," she said and looked away as if she didn't know why she had to say it.

"You're welcome," Harry replied automatically, with a bemused smile.

"You beat up those bad boys. I like you," Ariana burst out, rocking on her feet with enthusiasm and smiled for the first time showing gaps in her milk teeth; it was endearing.

As she rocked her hair fell back from her face, the candlelight showed Harry that what he had thought were shadows on her face were cuts and bruises from the muggle attack. He lost his good humor and forcibly smiled when the little girl noticed his hardening expression.

"Ariana?" a new voice came around the door, and Harry looked up to find one of the boys Percival Dumbledore had introduced him to. It was the taller one with auburn hair, and curious blue eyes, Albus.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorcerer Marshal_

**A.N.**Thanks to Tinn and Sophie for beta work.

* * *

Evening's unfolding shadows colored the boy's countenance in the same color as that of the gray wood paneled walls. Harry felt as if he was in a dream; too drugged by potions, perhaps, to connect to reality and see it for what it was. The auburn haired boy's eyes seemed to bore into him, but in truth it was _Harry's_ that pierced the azure of Albus Dumbledore. Harry's heart went cold when he realized he could not see his old professor in those eyes. The weight of wars, wisdom, and kindly indulgence was absent, even though there was a steadiness in them which spoke intelligence.

His temples throbbed with pain and he realized he had stopped breathing. He drew in sharply, embarrassed for giving himself away. Steeling himself he looked again at the young boy - just a child. The child was looking at him carefully as well. Obviously Percival's eldest son had not failed to notice their guest's unusual scrutiny of him.

"Dinner is ready, Mother says to come down," Albus broke the odd silence and gently steered Ariana to the doorway. She ran down without a second glance. "Mother says that you should come too."

Harry pushed the covers off, feeling a cool draft. He rolled up his sleeves and pants so they fitted him as best they could. Then he followed Albus downstairs at a more sedate pace than Ariana.

"Didn't she see a healer?" Harry asked, thinking that if he could hear the boy speak more maybe everything would make sense.

"Who?" Albus stopped on the steps and looked back up at him. Harry was disappointed again not to find a trace of his mentor. He chided himself in his mind for his foolishness.

"Your sister Ariana," Harry answered.

"Yes. She was sent home before you. Why?" Albus' face showed clear childish curiosity. Finally Harry gave up hoping to discover his headmaster quietly hiding within the child in front of him.

"She's bruised. Didn't anyone heal her?" Harry asked, remembering his anger at the obvious neglect.

"Mother says she is old enough to learn about pain and that it takes time to heal," Albus explained and started walking down again, thinking he had answered Harry's question fully.

Harry frowned at Albus' words but held back from saying something insulting about his mother. He followed in Albus' steps noting his simple robes. He wondered when the boy changed from solid colors to the riotously adorned robes he wore in his final years. The thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he felt oncoming vertigo.

Blanking his mind to control his emotions he quietly concentrated on putting one step in front of the other. He plodded along in his shoes several sizes too big, distractedly irritated at the need for new clothes. They walked through a sitting area with a few shelves of books, a comfortable leather chair and ottoman.

"This is father's study. It is quicker to the dinning room this way," Albus informed quietly, while slowing down perceptively and walking carefully on the rugs placed in the center. Harry followed his example, getting a sense that there were consequences for disturbing or breaking anything in the room.

"Hold on," Harry called, making Albus jump. The auburn haired boy cocked his head to check if Harry's loud words were heard. He breathed in relief making Harry arch an eyebrow in question.

"We aren't allowed to cut across the study. Be quiet, please," Albus angrily whispered.

"Alright, alright, don't worry." Harry smiled, amused by the boy's caution. Having had a brush with death so recently made angering his hosts seem unimportant. "Your name is Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore, right?"

The taller boy blinked at him. "Yes. How do you know? Oh! Father must have told you. I am the eldest, so I have the longest name."

"Yeah, that makes a lot of sense," Harry commented distractedly, feeling his stomach knot. His last hope that the names were a coincidence was dashed. _What a weird reason to have a long name._

"Albus!" Percival Dumbledore's voice echoed in the house; Albus winced.

"Yes, Father?" he called out, shoving Harry to a side door, one which they weren't headed to before.

"Are you in my study, Albus?" Percival footsteps could be heard getting close.

"No, Father," Albus called from the side door, pushing Harry completely through and grabbing his arm to race down the hallway they had walked into. Harry let himself be dragged around until Albus made a sharp left into quite obviously the dining room.

"Are you running from your father, Albus?" Kendra Dumbledore came around the table flicking her braid behind her.

Harry heard more than saw Albus gulp, but there was a smile on his mother's face so he didn't know why the boy was so afraid.

"I had to tie my shoes. Albus didn't want to be late so we ran. It's my fault really, sorry." Harry adopted an apologetic hung head and so missed Kendra's appraising look.

"True, I do not take kindly to tardiness, but I also value honesty. Take your seats boys."

* * *

Dinner showed Harry in one glimpse what the life of Dumbledores was like. Unlike the warmth and love of the Weasley household, the Dumbledore family was a household of discipline. The only two off-beat members were Percival Dumbledore and his daughter, Ariana. Kendra tried, in vain, to stop Percival from playing with Ariana at the dinner table. Albus and Aberforth were dutiful and obedient, attentive to both their mother and father. Albus was arrayed with his mother in looking down on Percival and Ariana's deviance from 'proper table manners.' Poor Aberforth for all his surliness seemed afraid that he would be the target of his mother's ire at her husband.

Harry ate quietly, taking it all in. He found the atmosphere slightly oppressive and confusing. Percival was without doubt the head of the family, his wife and children responded to him immediately and dutifully. But that did not stop Kendra from insisting on discipline and what was 'correct.' Sadly, Percival's affectionate manner with his daughter did not extend to his sons. He treated them as one would treat subordinates, expected to report their daily activities and success with studies.

Harry wondered which side of the line in the household he would fall in. Percival had been kind and generous to him. Looking at how strictly he spoke with his sons, Harry could even say Percival had been _indulgent_ with him. But then, Kendra had hugged him as well. Perhaps the Dumbledores were simply not as free with affection as the Weasels and expressed it only sometimes.

What he knew for certain and that made him uneasy was the tension in the children caused by their parents' different and unequal expectations. However, it looked like Aberforth was the worst off. Both his mother and father treated him strictly, while he needed the affection only Ariana received. Albus at least had his Mother's approval.

He was so lost in his observation that he did not realize that they had noticed his intent gaze on them. When Percival nodded to gain his attention, he was startled out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Gabriel, please come into my study," Percival said, standing up.

Harry had planned to pick up the table as soon as everyone was done in an effort to be useful. But he got up thinking he might have some chance later to ingratiate himself to Kendra Dumbledore. The thought that he might already enjoy her favor for saving her daughter did not cross his mind.

"Excuse me." Harry gave Kendra an awkward bow as he stood to follow Percival. He felt distinctly shabby in his oversized clothes in Kendra's neatly kept dinning room.

Percival led through a door to the study Albus had been trying to sneak through. He took a seat behind a small clear desk. It had a single wand sitting on it. Something in Percival's body language told Harry to stay standing. Malfoy's wand was another indication that the meeting may not be an entirely friendly one.

"Mr. Gabriel, is there someone somewhere waiting for you to return home; someone to whom this wand belongs?" Percival Dumbledore asked.

Harry stifled the need to scoff at the thought that Draco Malfoy might be waiting for him. Being dismissive when Percival looked so serious might give have given the wrong impression.

"No, sir," Harry said, then added as an afterthought, "I am alone." Harry had been avoiding thinking of this aspect of his situation. He had thought he was only going back a little, maybe a few months, maybe a year. But to be so very far in the past that without an extraordinarily long life he would never see his friends again was too overwhelming.

"Then you will keep to your story that you are a homeless child who 'found the wand?'" Percival asked, keeping very still and watching Harry's expression.

Harry did not like the way the question was phrased, but he had no choice but to answer civilly. In this time the Dumbledore family was the most familiar thing he knew. "Yes, sir. I am homeless. The wand isn't mine. It belonged to a dark wizard."

Percival held up a hand to stop Harry from continuing, and Harry berated himself for letting on that he knew the wand's owner.

"You do not have a clean or a respectable past, this much I have guessed. But you saved my daughter without any thought to self preservation. I am prepared to see you as a child with a good heart in very unfortunate circumstances. I am prepared to forgive you for whatever you have done until you met me and give you a new start in life." Percival paused to lean over the desk, steepling his fingers. "Does that sound like good fortune to you? If I were in your shoes I would think myself very lucky for this chance."

Harry nodded vigorously. If Percival wanted to move on from his stupid disclosure, he was more than happy to encourage him. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"One moment." Percival held up his index finger. "Whatever your history, your doings, which I suspect may be criminal or at the least unacceptable, will remain a secret in your soul. I will not inquire and you will not volunteer. Is that understood?"

Harry realized the great gift he was being given. Not only did he not have to explain where he had popped up from, Percival deeply did not want him to say anything. "Yes, sir. Clear as crystal."

Percival smiled a little at his response. "What that means is that from tonight forward you will act like a child who would save another at the expense of his life should. You will be honest, upstanding, and everything a man _ought_ to be. I will not turn a blind eye if you do something undesirable under my care. My debt to you for saving my daughter's life grants you a new life, but it does _not_ grant you license to abuse my kindness. Is that clear?"

"I don't take advantage of people. Thank you for your help," Harry said meeting Percival's piercing gaze. He did not have a dark past he was ashamed of, just not one he could share. Harry hoped Percival could see what kind of person he was if he met his eyes. He wanted to defend himself and say he had not ever done anything criminal but technically that was not true.

"This is your old life," Percival said, tapping Malfoy's wand. "Pick it up."

Harry took the wand, automatically sliding it in his back pocket but Percival motioned him to keep it out.

"As I said, that is your old life. I would like you to break it." Percival leaned back in his chair, waiting for Harry's reaction.

Harry snapped the wand without ceremony and placed the pieces back on Percival's desk. He was happy to see the surprised look on the man's face. _Maybe he thought I was attached to it._ _Malfoy's wand is the last thing I want for a memory. _

"Good. Your lack of hesitation has changed my mind. I was wary of providing you with a wand before, but tomorrow I shall take you to Ollivander. "

Harry nodded and said thank you. It seemed to him that Percival insisted on deference to himself and good manners just as much as his wife did, except where it concerned his daughter. Harry had little problem giving him what he expected. He had been raised to pretend respect for the Dursleys, and then do more of the same for teachers like Professor Snape.

Percival came around the desk with a smile and patted his shoulder. It seemed Harry had gained the wizard's approval. Percival walked him around the house pointing out which room belonged to whom, while Harry wondered where he would be staying. The house was not especially small or large. It was comfortable and well kept. The size looked to be just right for the number of people living there; that is, there did not seem to be a place for Harry.

When Percival arrived back in the room Harry had passed-out in earlier, Harry noticed that there were three beds in there.

"You will sleep here with Albus and Aberforth. Tomorrow we will see about cleaning the attic for you." Percival inspected his sons' room frowning at one bed's rumpled sheets in contrast with the neatly made other beds. "This is Albus' old bed. I have transfigured it to fit you easily. The mattress is charmed to be comfortable tonight but we will make permanent arrangements when everything is decided. You should go to sleep. My sons will come up after I have told them you will be staying with us."

"Goodnight, sir," Harry said, feeling drawn to the bed.

"Goodnight, Mr. Gabriel." Percival rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, no need to be formal with you anymore. Rest well, Harry."

Harry slipped under the covers in his overlarge clothes blissfully. He palmed the mokeskin purse Hargrid had gifted him to see if it was there. Relieved that his most precious belongings were still with him he fell into deep sleep.

* * *

The next morning Harry was woken up before daybreak. Kendra Dumbledore sent him to wash while she disappeared muttering something under her breath. From her manner Harry thought speed was advisable so he cleaned up quickly. He shuffled downstairs, trying to keep the too big frame of his older body's spectacles on. He followed the dull orange glow coming from the kitchen. Everywhere else in the house it was dark and hushed. The rest of the children were still asleep. Harry wondered if things for him would be like they were at the Dursleys; woken up before everyone else to prepare breakfast and to do chores.

However, when he entered the kitchen Kendra motioned him toward the dining room. Harry happily noted a house elf jetting around Kendra's legs making breakfast. He held the door to the dining room open for Kendra seeing her pick up a tea service she had been readying. Percival Dumbledore was seated at the table, looking as fresh as he had the night before. His shoulder length auburn hair was pulled off his face and he was wearing a finely cut long coat of a fashion Harry recognized to be very out of date in his time. Still, the tall grave man made it look smart. Harry noted a small gold pin in the long coat's lapel with three stylized M's on it; he did not recognize the insignia.

"You have a very long day ahead of you, child. Merlin, if only you were close to Albus or Aberforth's size I could give you one of their robes," Kendra said, taking out her wand.

She shrunk his glasses first so they fit him; he thanked her with feeling, gaining a light smile from the sleepy witch. Her black hair was out of its braid and she kept impatiently brushing back the locks that fell past her waist. Percival chuckled every time she would sigh in annoyance. Kendra did not notice her husband's amusement at her plight as she was too busy charming Harry's clothes to fit him, mending tears here and there. She told him to take off his shoes and transfigured the sneakers into black leather boots.

"Never seen shoes like those before," she commented, sitting down. Harry looked at himself, impressed, and feeling like a new man. Kendra Dumbledore was very skilled in Transfiguration and Charms. "Well, you're presentable enough for the Hit Wizards or the Aurors. We will civilize you later today for the Hogwarts interview. If the Headmistress agrees?" She looked askance to Percival who nodded.

"Yes, if she agrees, but I do not doubt she will. Her family is indebted to ours," Percival said while drinking his tea with shut eyes.

Harry attempted to interject a question about what the Hit Wizards wanted and why he had to interview with the Hogwarts Headmistress, but Kendra spoke before he could. "Percival, is all the haste necessary? The child has not had enough rest. He was in St. Mungo's less than a day ago."

"Yes, my dear, it is imperative that the child's affairs be taken care of immediately. Most importantly, we owe him to care for his wellbeing." Here he nodded to Harry, acknowledging that Harry really _was_ there even if he was being spoken of as if he was not. Kendra motioned Harry to start eating his breakfast while watching her husband to say more. "The child's circumstances are a bit suspect," Percival added putting down his tea. "The Hit Wizards are concerned about a criminal background. The Aurors, on the other hand, examined the wand he was found with and wish to question him about possible past association with dark wizards or witches. But of course, their job is complicated if I take the child in under my protection, under the name of our family."

Kendra had taken a seat at the table but was not partaking in breakfast. She gave Harry a severe look. "My husband tells me you snapped the wand without hesitation. I am glad to hear of it. You can see what lengths it will take us to secure your future. I hope you will not disappoint us."

Harry nodded and returned her quelling look respectfully. "I told Mr. Dumbledore that I don't take advantage of people, ma'm. I'm not a criminal or a dark wizard. I promise I won't make you regret helping me."

Kendra smiled, which made her attractive. "You were right, Percival, he has a strong spirit and is respectful. I shall make him a gentleman," she said to her husband while giving Harry the smile that had made him blush. "I understand their interest in questioning him but why the hurry?"

Percival seemed to weigh his words and for a moment it looked as if he would not say anything. Then coming to an internal decision, he explained, "You know I have enemies in the Ministry. Through denying me custody of him they might enjoy petty revenge." Percival's frown deepened. "Or they could cast suspicion on our family for being saved by an unsavory character; no matter the truth that the boy is noble. There are others, of course, who recognize the debt of House Dumbledore to the child. If they give him shelter before us, they could have a pawn in their grasp to which I owe an undeniable debt. It disgusts me when doing the right thing by the boy is so mixed in with political necessities as well."

Kendra shrugged at her husband's obvious ire. Harry who had begun to feel Percival's kindness was simply for personal gain was mollified by seeing the grave wizard's distaste of the situation.

"I am going to stop by unannounced for a visit to one of Wizengamot's esteemed members," Percival said with sarcasm, "when he is awakening from another night of libations in quiet celebration of our laws."

"Merlin, this is how you keep making enemies," Kendra said, dismayed. "People do not like knowing you are aware of their secrets and weaknesses. Promise me you will let him save face. It is much better to present yourself as a savior than a devil carrying a scroll of their misdeeds," Kendra appealed to her husband, but in a manner that told Harry she knew her argument would fail before she even presented it.

"I always fashioned myself more as an angel of judgment and righteousness." Percival smiled at his wife in obvious provocation.

"Percival," Kendra whispered, quietly exasperated. "Your sons will inherit your enemies. Think of them at least and be diplomatic."

"I do not compromise on the man I am or my principles. Our sons will have my strength of arm to do right deeds without apology, but also your subtleties, which might make them more more diplomatic. I am too bent in my ways to change now; you should invest time in them." He smiled again at her, and Harry was certain this was a comfortable and familiar argument for them. In his sea of worry and uncertainty it was a pleasant sight, even though it made him feel like he was intruding.

He ate his breakfast while Kendra and Percival spoke of people he did not know and that had nothing to do with his situation. Finally Percival put down the cup of tea he had been nursing through the early breakfast.

"Time to go, child. Now, hold on to my arm and don't let go," he said to Harry, putting on a hat. Kendra stood on her tiptoes and gave the tall wizard a quick peck on the cheek. Next thing Harry knew he was being side-along disapparated.

* * *

They appeared in a darkened corridor. The sound of busy hustle -bustle carried through the thin wooden walls. It gave Harry the impression that perhaps the narrow passageway was a secret area hidden along one of the Ministry's otherwise expansive hallways. Percival motioned him to stay quiet and withdrew his wand. Harry tensed, unhappy at not having a wand of his own. Percival muttered a spell on the doorknob of one of three rooms that were lined along the dingy corridor. He heard a click as the lock yielded.

Percival threw the door open making it hit something with a loud bang. It startled Harry who thought the tall wizard wanted to be quiet.

"Mr. Worchester, good morning, your honor," Harry heard Percival's cheery voice, so at odds with his usual demeanor. He realized he had been left in the corridor while Percival had entered the room. Harry quickly followed in to see an unshaved old man blinking owlishly at the grave visage of Percival Dumbledore.

Harry entered fully into the room but the man behind the desk did not make note of him. He was slightly rotund, with thick glasses sitting skewed on his bloodshot eyes. His white with age hair was as rumbled as his ceremonial purple robes. The ornate 'W' on his breast finally clued Harry that he was in the chambers of the Wizengamot judge Percival had mentioned at breakfast.

"Dumbledore? What are you doing here?" the old wizard asked utterly confused.

"I am here for a little help with a personal matter. You heard about the muggles' attack at my home?" Percival said, clearing off the files sitting on a visitor's chair to sit down.

Mr. Worchester fixed his spectacles and wiped his face vigorously. He smelled of alcohol and flinched at every sound. Harry seeing a pitcher of water at the corner of the wizard's desk went to it. He poured a goblet full and gave it to the apparently hung-over wizard. Mr. Worchester took note of Harry for the first time, blinking at him, but accepted the goblet thankfully.

"This is the boy who saved my daughter's life. A diamond in the rough." Percival smiled at Harry, motioning him to fill up Mr. Worchester's glass again.

"Oh? Is he? Indeed, indeed," Mr. Worchester said still very out of his depth. He drank the second goblet of water like a parched man.

Percival started talking before Mr. Worchester was finished. "I have prepared papers to take in Mr. Harry Gabriel here as my ward. I simply need your signatures to verify that everything is legal and proper." Percival withdrew a thick scroll from his coat and gave it to Harry who was better positioned to take it to Mr. Worchester. The books, parchment, and empty bottles of Firewhiskey on the desk made it difficult to present the aged wizard with anything.

"I – I see," Mr. Worchester said, taking the scroll from Harry warily, as if something would pop out of it and bite him. "So this boy…I heard he took injury. Was not expected to recover."

"I am lucky, Mr. Worchester," Harry said politely, letting the old wizard know he was capable of speech on his own. He found it mildly irritating to be spoken of when he was present.

Mr. Worchester, however, seemed to have finally found his bearings. He had put the scroll aside on his desk and was staring at Dumbledore over his thick glasses. The set of his shoulders made Harry think the wizard was getting ready for a fight.

"Irregular, highly irregular. This should be submitted to the court clerk. The…what the hell are they calling themselves these days? Every half-century they adopt a new name – ah yes, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has to clear the boy and you as a suitable guardian," the wizard said belligerently. Harry was taken aback by the change that had come over the man.

Percival hummed in an unconcerned manner. He made it very obvious that he was only pretending to think over what Mr. Worchester had said. "Perhaps, if you were to look at the papers you might see why I took the opportunity to bring this to your personal attention, your honor," he said with a bare emphasis on 'honor.'

With a casual wave of his hand the Firewhiskey bottles on the desk began meandering to the edge to jump down. The bottles took their time when they crossed in front of Mr. Worchester. The old wizard's eyes followed the train of empty Firewhiskey bottles, that Percival was so obviously displaying for him. Harry noted the man pale a little and slump his shoulders. It occurred to him that Percival was very undiplomatically parading evidence of Worchester's drinking problem. Kendra would be upset with her husband if she saw Percival acting like this. When the old wizard wet his lips Harry poured him another glass of water. The wizard knocked it back like a shot and gave Percival a defeated glare.

"Ah, that should make it easier to spread out the scroll," Percival said, acting unaware of the loathsome look directed at him.

The wind seemed to leave Mr. Worchester as he slumped in his stuffed chair. In another moment, however, he sat up straight in his chair, very deliberately taking a dignified posture. "Thank you, my boy," he said to Harry. "You seem like a decent sort." Then he turned to look full face at Harry. His white hair up close was greasy from too many days without washing, the skin on his reddened face was unhealthily blotched, and his eyes showed a cornered man. "I take some measure of responsibility by handing you in Percival Dumbledore's care. Act in an honorable manner, always, and distinguish yourself. So I do not regret rewarding your kindness to a stranger."

Harry frowned, wondering why people were so worried about him bringing shame on them. But then he was new to being seen as a street urchin and was unaware of what aiding Percival Dumbledore meant for Ministry workers in that day.

"I won't make you regret it, Mr. Worchester," Harry said simply, a little upset by all the suspicion.

"Good. Very well. Now where is my quill?" Mr. Worchester said reaching for the quill right next to his hand. He unrolled the scroll and with a cursory glance signed it. Out of a drawer he withdrew the seal of the Wizengamot and affixed it to the official document as well. "Come to me some day and I will educate you on your rights and expectations as a ward of the House Dumbledore. Good luck to you, son."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, picking his way over the bottles that now littered the carpeted floor.

"Good day, your honor," Percival said with a tip of his hat. Harry preceded him out of the door, but heard what his guardian said to the judge as he left. "Worchester, I am not the only one who knows of your recent failings. If it were someone other than me, they might have forced you to agree to something more unfortunate than giving a homeless child a guardian."

"Get out!" came the angry response from the old judge inside. Harry could see in his mind the wizard's ailing and desperate face and it made him feel ill himself.

"Clean yourself up, Worchester," Percival said as a parting shot and shut the door. "So much for Kendra's diplomacy," he muttered, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder and leading him out.

Harry smiled in amusement at what Percival thought was 'diplomacy.'

* * *

Percival led out into one of the Ministry's larger halls on the top floors. From there they took the elevator all the way to the ninth floor. Percival walked toward the unassuming door leading into the Department of Mysteries. Despite himself Harry felt nervous about revisiting the room there.

It was to his surprise when Percival stopped halfway between the elevator and the Department of Mysteries' door. He turned to his right to face a blank wall and took out the pin on his lapel. He pressed it into a groove Harry had not seen until then, and a door simply materialized in the wall.

Unlike the Department of Mysteries' door, this one was grand with an arching top adorned in runes and artful engravings. As Harry watched a face appeared within the arch. The stone face looked at Dumbledore and then spoke in an expectedly gravelly voice, "Are you Percival Dumbledore?"

"It is me, Sentinel, let us in, please," Percival answered impatiently.

"The boy is too young to be a soldier. I do not recognize him," Sentinel replied.

"His name is Harry Gabriel. Harry, this is Sentinel, the guardian door of this department. I expect you to be respectful to him. Now, Sentinel, the boy is my ward. Let us in before an Unspeakable stumbles upon us." Percival knocked where the stone face's brow was.

"Nearest Unspeakable is on the seventh floor. Aurors – two – arriving with prisoner for Courtroom 10 in seventy-three seconds . Enter quickly," Sentinel said and then yawned. Harry watched in amusement as the yawn opened the mouth of the stone face so wide and tall it was big enough for him and Percival to walk through. Percival pulled Harry over the bottom lip of the stone face into a short dark passage, much like the one in Gryffindor tower. After a few steps there was suddenly light, allowing Harry to see wide halls with pillars marching far back. Percival started walking purposefully and Harry followed. Their steps echoed in the immense gray hall. Harry got a sense that the place had not been in use for a very long time. He could see dust ringing around the bases of the pillars in the empty halls.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic's Military, Harry. This was once the pride of our nation." Percival gave Harry a sardonic smile over his shoulder. "They tell me it is even more anachronistic than I am these days."

Harry could tell there was real anger behind Percival's sarcastically amused face. He was happy to know, however, what the three Ms on his pin had meant. To his knowledge the Ministry did not have a military in his time. They had Aurors and Hitmen, he could not see what a military would do.

As they entered a third hall through another arch Harry finally began to see the rooms being used for something. Strange devices, some small and some so immense they disappeared in the vaunted ceiling of the hall, were gathering dust. But here and there he would see a twinkle of magic, a sparkle of something that was still alive.

"Do not touch these. There are a handful of people alive who know their use and can control them if they get out of hand. I would appreciate it if you do not mention their existence to anyone either. Enchanted weaponry and machines of war are coveted by other departments who have no business with the Magical Military's equipment," Percival said, never slowing down in his pace. Harry wondered when the expansive halls would end. It seemed there was an arch at the end every time leading to another dusty, pillared, and disused hall.

The fourth they entered took Harry's breath away. His footsteps froze and even Percival stopped to let him have a moment. This hall was the greatest in size. The pillars here gleamed magically white and were the source of light. They shone on sculptures of dark creatures and beings only a few of which he had ever seen. They were mounted from the ceiling; showing the underbellies of sea creatures he had only imagined from descriptions in his Defense books. The far walls of the hall had shelves upon shelves flying high and disappearing into the ceiling. Many had books and tomes on them, but most had curious instruments and sculptures of things he could not even make out from distance.

"Best not wake anything that is here either, Harry. Very few who could survive this room when it is awakened. Too few…" Percival Dumbledore whispered the last. Harry found the tall wizard grave again, his auburn hair strangely too healthy against his worn face.

"Wake anything? But they're sculptures," Harry said.

"Understand this, in the world of magic, rarely is anything what it is on the surface. Especially when you see something in this department, err on the side of caution," Percival answered.

"What about those books then? Defense against the Dark Arts?" Harry, who thought he might've found a treasure trove on his favorite subject, asked.

Percival gave him an unreadable look. "Point where you see books."

Harry frowned at the odd request but did as asked, pointing to the shelves packed with books. Percival looked from him to the shelves and back.

"Hmm, follow me," the talk wizard said, taking quiet and careful steps around the detailed and life-like sculptures to the shelves. As Harry got closer he saw a glass wall from floor to ceiling in front of the shelves. Faint, nearly transparent, runes and spells were written out on the glass-wall line after line. Behind it sat the tomes he had seen from far away. Standing a few feet away he could see the books did not sit next to each other but were spaced out in strange patterns. Some were locked in glass boxes much like the wall they were sitting behind

"I guess they're restricted," Harry commented, eliciting an amused chuckle from Percival.

"An understatement, Harry. Make sure you do not even slip and accidentally tell anyone that you can see these books. You see, they are enchanted to not look like their true selves," Percival cautioned.

"How can I see them then?" Harry was confused.

"Like attracts like," Percival said with a heavy gaze on Harry.

"I don't understand."

Percival's lips thinned before he answered, "These books are weapons and have minds of their own. If you see them it is because they recognize you. There is something of you that resonates with them." Percival paused, and spoke ominously, "There is something in you they can take advantage of. So do not _ever_ covet them. Do you understand?"

Harry gulped wondering what he had landed into. "Yes, sir. But isn't it dangerous to have them behind glass where anyone can see them?"

Percival nodded. "Look at that shelf, what do you see?" he said pointing to the shelves that held small figurines of the life- size creatures and beings displayed on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Harry told him what he saw in detail.

"Everything you are looking at is in reality a book. You simply cannot see it and you will find that you do not have any great desire to pick up the small figures either. If they had the power to tempt you they would have shown their true natures to you. I am glad to see none of these can corrupt you." Percival waved to the rows upon rows of figurines Harry had been admiring earlier.

Harry felt more than a little wary of things he could not see and took an instinctive step back. But the words "like attracts like" stayed in his mind. It was obvious to him there was plenty that could tempt him.

"These books do not hold knowledge. If that is what you seek, you will not find it here. They are cursed and evil. Come, let's go." Percival turned on his heel and made a bee line for the arch leading to yet another hall.

Harry jogged after him, marveling at the sculptures and very reluctant to leave. "What happens if someone tries to get the books?"

"There is nothing ordinary about the enchantments on the protective glass. Life is the least of what would be taken from you if you attempted to breach the wall. Still tempted, boy?"

Harry frowned, not liking Percival's tone. "I can resist the Iimperius, sir. I don't think some book will get me."

Percival froze.

Harry had no warning of what came next. Percival whirled and lunged at him. He picked him up from his shirt and slammed him in a pillar, holding him there.

Then he spoke in a deathly whisper, rage choking his voice. "I told you, boy, you leave your old life behind, you do not lie to me, you do not tell me fibs, you do _not_ act like a dark wizard anymore." Percival released him, sending Harry crashing to the floor.

Harry's heart was beating fast, and his own anger had blinded him to his surroundings. He jumped off the ground and screamed on top of his lungs, "I didn't lie! I am not a dark wizard. Go to hell!"

Percival's face was a mask of indifference, the rage Harry had seen erupt on his features was gone without a trace. "So, a starved little eleven year old can resist one of the three unforgivables? Something grown and powerful wizards cannot do? You are not on the streets anymore, do not tell tales to impress the criminals."

"I don't lie. I can do it," Harry said, breathing hard. He was furious at being manhandled. Scared at how easily he had been picked up and beaten. Without a wand or his older body he was weak, and it frightened him.

"Very well. I think it is necessary you understand the consequences of lying. Follow me. It is not wise to cast magic such as that in this hall." Percival left him in his wake.

Harry punched the air in frustration and followed, irritated with himself for letting his guard down around Percival Dumbledore. A man, he realized, who was mostly a stranger to him. He left behind the hall of sculptures and books into the next one. It was a different room, round with a raised podium on the side. For some reason the room made him feel blissful, it was comfortable, and he forgot his earlier anger.

"Stand on the dais and tell me your real intentions for the Dumbledore family,"

Harry heard a voice. It was gentle and sweet, and he thought it was a grand idea. He took two steps and realized he could not see Percival, who he had followed into the room. Besides he did not know what his intentions were; he had none. His steps stopped and a cold feeling started from his middle out. _Why do I feel so happy?_ he wondered.

He turned about face, away from the dais and looked straight at Percival Dumbledore who had been standing against the wall behind him. Harry smiled insolently when Percival's eyes narrowed.

"I intent to run off with Percival Dumbledore's wife, who he should listen to more often, and then I am going to come here and kick him in his ass for being a suspicious, paranoid nut. Oh! And I will also tell him I've felt a better Imperius curse from an insane person," Harry chirpily said, numbering off things on his hand.

"Kendra is too old for you," Percival said with a straight face, putting away his wand. He stared at Harry then burst out laughing. It only served to aggravate Harry more. Percival moved toward him, making Harry flinch back, but the older wizard only patted him on the shoulder. "A diamond in the rough, indeed. Was my Imperius truly worse than a mad man's?" he asked with a smile.

"Well if you told me to do something less strange it would have worked. It was stronger than the insane wizard's, but I've felt stronger," Harry could not resist adding.

Percival harrumphed. "You have been dealing with wizards entirely too powerful if they are stronger than me. Well, well," he said in a thoughtful tone, scratching his chin, "if we showed your ability to resist an unforgivable to the Hogwarts' Headmistress, she would have no way of refusing you entry."

Harry stared at the man in disbelief for a couple of moments. Then feeling braver for their recent altercation, he said, "You are just a bit unbalanced, aren't you? First you overreact when I only mention the Imperius curse and now you want to show me off to the Headmistress?"

"You are too bold for your own good, son," Percival said, losing his good humor. "Come along. At least the tomes will have a difficult time swaying you."

Harry muttered a few curses under his breath and brushed himself off.

* * *

There was a suite of offices behind the round hall, where Percival Dumbledore had the biggest room. A few small desks sat around the room, buried with maps and scrolls. The middle of the floor was given to a map of Britain which created itself in front of Harry's eyes. Lines appeared, squiggling all over what looked like the stretched hide of some animal.

Percival was watching the map intently; Harry tried to follow what held the grave wizard's attention. When the map had drawn itself, inch high characters popped out of it and began walking or congregating at different spots. Harry knelt down to get a better look. He was fascinated by the shapes of wizards and witches with their long cloaks and pointed hats walking on the border. In other places he saw figures much taller than the wizards, but could not make out what they were.

"Giants," Percival said, seeing Harry's confusion.

"Cool." Harry whistled in appreciation, searching out other tiny things. "Are those Goblins?"

"Yes, and vampires here." Percival pointed to another part of the map. "And now let's see what is happening in the colonies." The map unmade itself, erasing the drawn lines, and then began redrawing.

Harry stared at it in confusion until it dawned on him just how far back in time he had gone to. "What are _we_ doing there? I thought it was only the muggles who went to India."

"Hm?" Percival said, distracted. After he had looked at whatever he was checking, he waved his hand and the map began redrawing itself again. "Yes, the muggle British government is everywhere. 'The sun does not set on the British empire,' as they say. Makes a Hell of a lot of work for us. They go colonize somewhere and suddenly the magical world has a war on its hands." Percival stopped from his casual perusal of the newest map to give Harry his full attention. "There are magical people everywhere in the world, Harry. We have a law that all nations agreed to, the International Statue of Secrecy. In short it means we do everything in our power to hide our world from the muggles. And that means that when the muggles of one nation attack the muggles of another nation, we do _not_ interfere. But…" Percival trailed off, just motioning to the map as if it explained everything.

"Oh," Harry said in realization. "So that's why we have a magical military. Are you fighting the Indian wizards right now then?"

"Ah, no, they did not give us much trouble. As long as we do not bring any of their magical children to Hogwarts, they will maintain trade relations. There are a few nationalistic elements in their Ministry, however. A fellow by the name of Sreenath Rakesh seems to have a bad habit of dropping cursed items in British camps." Percival moved amongst his three desks, looking at scrolls at random. Harry could not imagine how the man kept track of where everything was.

"Wait, is that America?" Harry asked in surprise, seeing the new map.

"The New World." Percival scoffed. "If only the muggles knew what we know;, it is quite old and treacherous with dark creatures. Our muggle brothers have long left that land to the colonists, but the magical ministries did not withdraw. We are negotiating a peace agreement between the native magical groups and the colonists. War will break out any day, however. Now, boy, you've wasted enough of my time with questions, go do something, let me work."

"Um, okay. Can I go back to the sculpture hall?" Harry asked, hopeful to spend time studying the dark creatures he had seen there.

"No," Percival answered, already buried in another scroll he had picked from the floor. "Make yourself useful, and don't get in the way."

Harry looked around the room but could not see what he could do to be 'useful.' So instead he sat down by the map in the middle of the floor. Soon he began seeing how different creatures and magical groups were moving around the maps. It fascinated him to see just the number of things being tracked. A whole new world opened to him when the map began showing seas and oceans.

He was so mesmerized by the map he did not realize how much time passed. When he looked up, Percival was still working around the room and the floor was covered with scrolls. That is when Harry noticed a row of pigeonhole shelves ringed around the room. Every few minutes a scroll would appear in one of them, and Percival would rush to it. Harry watched for a while quietly and noted the man's agitation.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, but Percival seemed to not have heard him.

The older wizard was muttering under his breath. His blue eyes were tense and hard. Harry opened his mouth to ask him again, but held back. He had learned that Percival's mood was unpredictable. It would not do to provoke him again.

"Those fools!" Percival swore. "I have to see the Minister. Stay here, when Dickson arrives tell him where I am and to monitor the Shaman situation."

* * *

"Wait!" Harry yelled after the wizard who had already disapparated. He stared at the space Percival Dumbledore had been a moment ago in disbelief. "Right, monitor the Shaman situation."

Three hours later Percival had not returned and no one else had arrived either. Harry was steadily working around the room cleaning up the scrolls and putting them in whatever order occurred to him. Most were easy for him; he simply divided the scrolls, which seemed to be reports from the Magical Military's agents around the world, by region and date. However, most of the time he was trying to keep up with reports coming from America. The language was coded and it did not make much sense to him, but he kept them arranged according to when they came in. He wished he had his wand; seeing Hermione countless times organize her books and research had given him enough spell knowledge to make his work go much faster.

He was frustrated by the coded messages. They were coming faster and faster, he could only hope Percival was not missing something important.

Suddenly he heard running footsteps. Adrenaline rushed in his veins, he had no idea who was coming, and he had no way to defend himself. He looked around the room, weighed the usefulness of using Percival's chair as a weapon. Only a second later he realized he was a little boy, hardly capable of swing furniture around.

"Marshal! Marshal!" Harry heard painful cries.

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw the big floor map glow red. He looked down to see that it had been washed away to leave the stone face of Sentinel there.

"I have alerted the Sorcerer Marshal. There is an unauthorized wizard entering with Mage Julio," Sentinel said in his earthy voice.

"What do I do?" Harry asked, wild- eyed.

"Wait for the Sorcerer Marshal," Sentinel answered and disappeared.

* * *


End file.
